


Sincerely, Yours

by 8Lbs



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Freebird - Freeform, Hey Baby I Think I Want to Marry You, M/M, Samtember
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-20 20:38:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4801481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8Lbs/pseuds/8Lbs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha brings the engagement ring up to the moonlight and studies it from every angle. What Natasha expects to see engrave in the gallery is Sam full name or the combination of Steve last name and Sam. What she gets instead are the words, “On Your Left,” inscribe elegantly. Natasha shakes her head Steve is such a dork.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sincerely, Yours

Bullets whiz by snatching at the bushes and trees around him. Steve knew the enemy is firing blindly. In the moonless night, they sure as heck couldn’t see him, hidden as he was. But that didn’t mean that one of them couldn’t get lucky. He keeps his head down and a tight grip on his shield as he uses his elbows and knees to move closer to shore. To the boat, that is waiting for him. The rest of his team— Clint, Natasha, Maria Hill, and Director Fury are already on board, he knew.  As always, he is the last man out.

"Donde esta el?"

"No dejes que el gringo escapar!"

Angry shouts from the distance not far enough that Steve couldn't tell that they were advancing has him belly-crawling faster. As the next in a series of planned explosions lights up the night sky, he smiles briefly and keeps going. Elbows, knees, through soft wet plants and sandy soil, closer to escape.  He doesn't look back. Didn't have to. He knew his job 90 years of experience under his belt lead him to believe he does it damn well. 

Everything is blowing up right on schedule. The flames lit the darkness, and flickering shadows jump around illuminating his way.  There a crackle of static in Steve ear before Natasha's voice comes through the earpiece. "Did you break your hip old man? Move it solder."  
  
Steve snorts. He can't help but to think, "Mission accomplish," as the last explosion rocks the night. He shifts his focus from the job to the matter at hand— getting the hell out of dodge. He ignores the slap of bullets against trees, the heat from the raging inferno behind him, and the frantic shouts of the enemy as they search for him. Slipping out of the tangled undergrowth to the sand, he tucks and rolls, then dashes the last few feet to the boat.  
  
Even as he rushes clumsily through knee-deep water instincts has him ducking as a couple of miscellaneous charges detonated, sounding off into the hot night air. He dives head first into the safety of the inflatable boat eager hands reach for him, grabbing a hold of his spandex suit yanking him the rest of the way in.  He lays flat for a long minute, catching his breath.

 "Natasha sends her regards", Fury says cryptically before slapping Steve upside his head as the blond man sits up. Fury shoves the throttle forward the boat takes off skidding above the water towards Helicarrier. "Called it a little close that time, huh cap," Clint remarks dryly keeping his recurve bow trained on the retreating shore to cover their escape, just in case some of the Hydra soldier survived their little lights show and were just a wee bit testy.  
  
Steve pursed his lips and pretends to mull over Clint’s words. Shouting to be heard over the rumble of the motor, he says, "Yeah, yeah. Quit whining. You ladies were safe in the boat while I was out saving the world from Hydra." Steve waves his hand back and forth dismissing them.

''Ladies?" Fury repeats feigning disbelief. “I think my mother would have a problem with that comment." The corner of Nick’s mouth quirks upwards as if to say— know who you're dealing with— and Steve rolls his eyes.

Clint laughs, throwing his head back. "Oh, I like that, He quipped loudly, here we are waiting on his star-spangled ass—lookin’ like sitting ducks and he insults us."

"Sound to me like cap getting a little grumpy in his old age.” Nick teases or at least Steve thinks he’s teasing because his face is set in an unreadable expression that is equal parts, mad black man, and competent leader. ''Maybe we ought to throw his ass overboard feed him to fishes," Clint suggests with unbridled mischief twinkling in his eyes. They are far enough away from the shore that Clint bow isn't poised to strike. Instead, it rests on his arm like a backpack shrug on one shoulder.  
  
"Nah, Nick counters, gaze locked ahead, I rather feed him to Natasha."  
  
Hardy, har har." Steve chuckles not taking anything to heart. Jokes aside, Steve trusted any one of these men with his life. And had. Too many times to count on both hands. This shared experience took the sting out any words they threw at him.  
  
The back and forth cheeky banter continues, mostly between Clint and Steve, till they reach the Helicarrier. A rope ladder drops from above Fury goes first, then Clint followed by Steve. Steve swings his legs over the rail and clambered aboard. His feet barely made contact with the solid metal when Natasha appeared in front of him, finger waving under his nose. “I told Sam I'd bring you home in one piece.  You trying to make a liar out of me."  
  
"I'm fine, Tasha," Steve reassures, and he is. So what if they're black smudges across his face or that his suit is torn in miscellaneous places revealing an assortment of cuts and bruises. Maybe some of the said cuts are bleeding more profusely than others. But all the mud spatter across his signed uniform hide the blood trail pretty well.  
  
Natasha eyes narrow, she pokes Steve in the ribs and he winces. "Totally fine. Uh huh.” She says sarcastically her eyes rolling into the back of her head. Steve smiles sheepishly, he knew better than to wave off Natasha concern his only hope is to distract her. It's not like she is gullible enough to fall for said distraction but depending how good the distraction is she been known to play along from time to time.  
  
“Do you want to see it, Steve asks vaguely. The inflection in his tone mirror a prepubescent boy showing his friend a Playboy magazine. Or in Steve case, Bucky sneaking into his barracks with the latest issue of Pulp.  
  
“You brought it with you?” A spark of knowing flashes in her eyes. She knew exactly what **it** is. Steve reaches into the pocket of the Shield stealth uniform— it took him submitting the uniform design to Shield and Stark six times before they realize that yes, even super soldiers have things to carry — and pulls out an inconspicuous little black box.  
  
He hands the box over with the care and hesitancy of a new mom passing her bundle of joy off to a relative. The moon peeks out from behind a trail of clouds, and in the brief flash of silvery moonlight, the diamond sparkles like a thousand stars trapped in ice. The band is yellow gold, one large round cut VVS1 diamond sits at the center of the band while the rest of the band is covered by many smaller diamonds facing outwards.  
  
Natasha brings the engagement ring up to the moonlight and studies it from every angle. What Natasha expects to see engrave in the gallery is Sam full name or the combination of Steve last name and Sam. What she gets instead are the words, “On Your Left,” inscribe elegantly. Natasha shakes her head Steve is such a dork.  
  
“Do you think he’s going to like it?”  
  
Natasha stares at Steve and for the first time in a long time she sees the boy behind the man. The pre-serum Steve that is full of self-doubt and hunch shoulder. She chooses her next words careful but is drowned out by Clint butting in where his two cents isn’t needed. “It’s a little girly…, Clint lets out a wolf whistle in appreciation and Steve face crumbles, but who doesn’t like a blood diamo-….” Natasha without looking back elbows Clint hard in the gut effectively shutting him up.  
  
She places a reassuring hand on Steve shoulders, eyes locks, and says, “Sam isn’t going to like it…,  
  
“Wha-?” Steve utters in disbelief.  
  
“… He’s going to love it.” Natasha finishes with a shit eating grin.  
  
Steve sighs, relief flooding through his body. Natasha wasn’t funny— hasn’t ever been—but as long as he got her approval, then he could stand a little good natured ribbing. 

Standing off to the side away from the group is Director Fury and Maria Hill. "Sam. who is he?" She ask looking at Fury. With a straight face, Fury brings his hands up to his chest and waves them up and down mimicking bird wings. “The wind beneath Steve wings.” He deadpans.

**Author's Note:**

> My respones to a Tumblr prompt requesting Steve being all types of fluster when picking out the right wedding ring for Sam and Natasha being awesome bro. 
> 
> Google Translate.  
> 1)Donde esta el? - Where is he?  
> 2)No dejes que el gringo escapar! -Do not let the gringo escape!
> 
> Pulp Magazine-are inexpensive fiction magazines that were published from 1896 through the 1950s.


End file.
